


Rest These Old Bones

by ChocoChipBiscuit



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Anal Sex, Fallout Kink Meme, Frottage, Kink Meme, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Kink, super mutant, though some plot keeps trying to sneak in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:31:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoChipBiscuit/pseuds/ChocoChipBiscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An older Courier retires to Jacobstown after the events of Fallout: New Vegas. He and Marcus end up as more than friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Fresh air, bright and beautiful and clean with the sharp scent of fresh snow—the Courier takes off his old cowboy hat, laughing like a child as he glories in the feeling of _freedom_ , absolute and glorious all about him. Now that the entire mess of New Vegas is completely in the hands of NCR—maybe not perfect, but the best that the Mojave could get, especially since he wasn’t damn fool enough to touch it with a ten-foot pole—he can treat this as a long overdue holiday.

Most of his companions have gone their own way—unfortunate, but expected. Only Rex keeps him company, the cyborg dog’s tongue lolling from his mouth as if he too is enjoying this much-deserved getaway. ED-E is keeping Arcade and Veronica company as they try to rebuild the world for the better (and more power to them, but Six is tired of that shit), Cass is rebuilding her business and Boone… Boone, that idiot, up and re-enlisted.

_You can’t save ‘em all, Boss,_ the old vaquero’s words echo through his mind, with the familiar tang of sardonic laughter. Raul, more than anyone else, understands how much he viewed his entire company as children. Hell, he had at least a decade on most of ‘em, and even the ones who were old enough to know better couldn’t seem to resist sticking their hands in bear traps.

Bear traps. Dog. God. Lily. Two more super mutants and companions he feels he was unable to save. Lily is taking her medicine again, and was dropped off back in Jacobstown a few weeks ago, before Six was really thinking of staying there himself. She seems… stable… which is better than ‘completely Sugar Bombs’ but he feels like her owes her more.

Maybe that’s why he’s considering offering to help out with the bighorners.

Or he could just waste away his pile of caps and drink all day. That sounds fun too, but Six has never really been one to settle down. These bones, however old, aren’t really made for resting. He eyes his hands thoughtfully, wondering if it’s just his imagination, or he seems to get more white hairs with every passing week. His grizzled hands and arms are still strong, at least—he had always been in good shape, and as a Courier and then uniting all those damn forces against the Legion he had reason to _stay_ in shape—and he has physically thrown men much younger on their asses in bar fights. In fact, it brings him a wicked glee for the ‘geezer’ to cut some of the drunken young fools down to size.

Maybe that’s the other reason he’s looking forward to Jacobstown. If Marcus wasn’t just lying through his teeth—and he has no reason to suspect the Super Mutant of pulling his leg—most of its denizens are considerably older than even a washed-up Courier. Even if all of them aren’t exactly what they once were (and here, his mind skitters over Stealth Boys, and Nightkin, and the terror of forgetting one’s own family) there is a gravitas and sincerity that comes with the years.

He banishes these dark thoughts as he spots the familiar green man with the orange shoulder piece, and he gives a sharp whistle in greeting. Marcus lifts one hand with a friendly wave, his booming voice closing the distance faster than Six’s own feet.

“Good to see you, Courier. Lily speaks well of your actions at the Dam.”

“Well, shit. You know how it is. Some assholes try to shoot up your friends, and you gotta ring up a bunch of warring tribes and factions to take ‘em down a notch,” Six responds, lips twitching into a smile. “How are Henry’s experiments going?”

“Promising. Very promising. Between the two of us…” And here, Marcus’ voice dips lower, so that Six must step closer to listen. “…if all goes well, we might have a cure for the Nightkin condition before the year’s out. If it works, we will all be much obliged to you.”

“Just a favor between friends,” Six says dismissively. “Though if you really want to pay it back, got any work around here for an ex-Courier?”

“We can always use a set of smaller hands for some of the repairs, and Lily can use a hand with the bighorners. Though if you are really giving up being a Courier… hell, what _do_ we call you? I don’t think I ever even heard your real name.” The question is obvious, even left unspoken, and Marcus crosses his arms while waiting for Six’s response.

“Shit, you’re right,” he mutters. “I been going by Courier Six so long—hell, initials even match my birth name—it’s going to feel strange any other way. ‘Charles Schmidt’ was a long time ago. ‘Six’ is the man I am today.”

“Then ‘Six’ is what I’ll call you.”

Six’s cheeks stretch with a grin, and he slaps a hand to Marcus’ back. “So, if you’re not too busy being the mayor of this little slice of heaven—or if you don’t want to set your newest ranch-hand to work right away—why don’t we sit back and drink a bit? We can catch up on old news, new news, and all the shit in between.”

* * *

 

“So after the doctor digs all the bullets out of my hide, I turn around and present them to my friend! It made quite a haul; I’ve been shot by _a lot_ of people, after all!” Marcus roars, laughter echoing through the lodge as he taps his whiskey bottle to Six’s shot glass. Six is roaring with laughter too, though if pressed, he’d have to admit he’s not entirely sure if it’s from Marcus’ story or the fact that he’s already had three shots.

“Well, you got any more?” he asks, tongue thick and slurred by the whiskey. “I can always use some more ammo for my pea-shooter.”

“Naw, but you’ll have first pickings if I get shot up again,” the Super Mutant chuckles. “Besides, you have other friends to dig ammo out for you.”

“Ha… yep. That I do.” The thought is bitter, cutting through the warm, liquor-induced feeling of euphoria. “Hell, they’re good people. Good kids, a lot of ‘em. But it’s goodbye for now.”

“Unresolved issues after the Dam?” Marcus asks knowingly.

Six laughs, the sound sharp and turned inward. “Yeah, you might say that. Good people. Just… well, sometimes a man needs some time to think. Cass and Arcade offered to come along, but… that girl doesn’t need to be playing nanny for an old man, and Arcade’s got too many daddy issues to make me comfortable.”

“Old?” Marcus snorts. “So you decide to come up and play nanny for a bunch of Super Mutants who were made before your pappy was even a twinkle in your grandpappy’s eye?”

“Sure, why not? Nice to be the younger one for a change,” Six says ebulliently.

“We’ll see how you feel once we put this whelp to work,” is Marcus’ retort, but they don’t get to work until the next day, spending the rest of the afternoon drinking and talking.

* * *

 

Over the course of the next several weeks, life falls into a comfortable routine for Six. He starts by doing minor odd-job repairs around the place, crawling into ducts or fixing things too small for the Mutant residents to do on their own. It is a little strange for the tall ex-Courier to feel short—he normally towers over other humans, but here he is barely shoulder-height for the vast majority of Jacobstown’s denizens—but he adjusts quickly. In time, even facing the incredibly tall urinals feels less foreign, even if he normally ends up doing his business behind a tree.

He also tends the bighorners with Lily, reminiscing with her while cleaning the animals’ coats and watching for ticks or disease. He suspects this is more of a ‘soft’ job, since Lily is perfectly capable of doing this on her own, but at least talking with his former traveling companion helps him feel less like he abandoned her and more like he was trying to help her. Rex wanders about, likely enjoying the change of scenery, and likes to take naps in the shade.

Evenings are normally spent with Marcus. Even if they don’t get colossally drunk, at least talking and exchanging stories helps the time pass pleasantly. Plus, it keeps him safely away from Keene—and while Six is a brave man, he would admit (if forced) that the idea of stumbling about in the dark while Keene is alert and watching makes him very uneasy.

At one point, their conversation takes a turn to talking about family. Marcus quickly admits he remembers little of his human family, from before the mutation, but has crafted his own sort of family among his Super Mutant brethren.

“And just like any family, sometimes they need someone a little older and wiser to kick ‘em in the head and tell them they screwed up,” Marcus explains with a sigh.

Six’s laughter courses out of him as he slaps his knee. “I know _that_ damn story all too well. My companions were my family for a while, and some of the shit they pulled… Dammit, I still wish Boone hadn’t re-enlisted.”

“The sniper fellow with the beret? You two were close?” Marcus asks probingly.

Sucking his teeth, Six shrugs. “Yes, we were. But it’s not the saying goodbye that bothers me—it’s that he never learned to let go. He’d put himself through enough hell out there, I didn’t see why he wanted to rejoin the army. Given my druthers, I’d have sent him west to my wife and her kids. They could have taken care of him.”

“You are married?” Marcus has no eyebrows, but it is easy enough to read his expression of incredulity.

Six chuckles, nodding in confirmation. “Yeah. Nice gal back where I grew up. I was friends with her sister as a kid, and when my shithead younger brother up and left her with a baby on the way—and no ring on her finger—stepping in seemed the right thing to do. At least it gave her a little respectability, and any of my earnings—death benefits too, if I up and kick the bucket—get sent to her. Figured it was the least I could do for a friend and mother of my nephew.”

Marcus taps his finger against the wooden table, still shaking his head in disbelief. “I suppose there are worse reasons to marry. There was no affection between you two?”

“Naw; I never was much into dames. But she was a sweet kid, and it seemed the best I could do at the time. My name’s just there so the nosy old biddies of the town can’t sneer at her, and she’s doing well. I sent her enough money to buy some bighorners, hire on some hands…” His voice trails off thoughtfully. “Raise those kids right. And if she sleeps with the men, what does it bother me? She’s pretty much supporting herself now. Managed to make some good investments, so she’s pretty damn wealthy in her own right.”

“How often do you visit?”

“Been ‘bout….” Six whistles slowly as the length of time dawns on him. “Damn near a decade. We get letters to each other every couple of months, but with the distance, it’s hard. My nephew’s probably old enough to be helping her manage the place.”

“So why would you send Boone instead of go yourself?” Marcus inquires.

Six has no good answer for that, and chuckles ruefully. “Good question. Guess I’m just not ready to settle down yet. Even here, it feels like somewhere just to rest for a while, ‘afore I get back on my feet.”

“And that’s how I know you are still young,” the Super Mutant says softly. “I am ready to rest these old bones.”

Six tilts his head back, looking up at Marcus with his brow furrowed. There had been something in his voice… Acting on a whim, he leans in to murmur, “You ever remember a wife and kids out there either?”

“No,” the leader of Jacobstown sighs. “Unlike you, I am a confirmed bachelor.” A pause, with a meaningful look. “A _very_ confirmed bachelor.”

“Ah…” Now the gears start kicking, and Six cannot help laughing, the amusement bubbling up through his chest until it bursts out in a guffaw. And then he cannot help but laugh even more at Marcus’ indignant expression. “Well… hell, my wife don’t care. And you are a pretty damn good man, in my opinion.”

“And you in mine,” Marcus responds. He glances towards his room, then falters. With a grunt, he mutters, “We are both too old to dance around this. Would you care to sleep with me?”

“Depends on what you mean by ‘sleep,’” Six drawls insolently. “I’m not too tired yet, old man, but I _might_ be interested in some mutual orgasms.”

“I’ll show _you_ ‘old,’” Marcus growls, but Six is laughing and they are already walking to the room. Once they close the door, any hesitancy fades away as they start touching each other, finally permitting themselves what they have both been waiting for. Six hazily reflects that one of the _nice_ things about not being a teenager any more is that now he has a somewhat better idea of what he’s doing, though dealing with a Super Mutant lover is still different in so many ways. Six is not used to being the short one, for one thing.

Marcus’ armor comes off easily, straps and buckles sliding through Six’s hands in well-practiced movements. He has had enough experience taking care of his own equipment not to be confounded by Marcus’, and gives a pleased grunt as Marcus’ hands—so large but still so dexterous—unfasten the buttons of his shirt, pulling the faded cloth off his shoulders. There is no rush; they have plenty of time to take their pleasure, and much of the joy comes in exploring the unfamiliar, tracing hands over fresh skin and old scars. Nuzzling at the base of Marcus’ throat, Six feels his breath catch before the other man’s hands start kneading down his back, fingers grazing over his spine and sending chills through his body despite his greying undershirt.

He turns his face up (up! Will Marcus being taller ever stop being a wonder?) to kiss him, lips meeting and tongue flicking past teeth to deepen the kiss. He is dimly aware that his stubble is scratching against Marcus’ smooth skin, but the Super Mutant does not seem bothered at all, instead groaning deep in his throat as his breath catches.

“I would like your shirt off, Six,” he requests, still breathing raggedly. Six moves to comply, pulling up his shirt and exposing a thin line of hair traveling south past his hips, and Marcus helps pull it over his head. They continue kissing after that, though now Marcus is raking his fingers through Six’s chest hair, and Six is fumbling at Marcus’ trousers with his normally steady fingers now trembling with excitement. Marcus eventually swats Six’s hands away, taking off his own pants, and presses his erection against Six’s side.

“Holy shit, Marcus,” Six grunts as the Super Mutant starts sucking on his lower lip, all heat and wet desire. “Even Long Dick Johnson would be impressed by _that_ monster. I don’t suck cock on the first date, so if you don’t mind…” His own erection free, he starts briskly rubbing one hand over Marcus’ length, using long strokes from the base to the tip of the shaft.

Marcus’ voice is husky, and he licks his lips before responding “I don’t mind, as long as you keep doing _that_.” His penis throbs under Six’s touch, and he bucks his hips as if to fuck Six’s open fist, groaning with frustration as he reaches down to cup the human’s cheek in one massive hand.

“Gotcha. Let’s just sit down….” Still stroking and touching, with an occasional exchange of kisses, they slowly meander their way towards the bed. Marcus sits first, then Six climbs into his lap, straddling and facing him so that their cocks are rubbing together. Marcus forms a fist of his own, stroking Six’s shaft and attempting to match the speed and tempo. It becomes a game of sorts, where one would vary the rhythm and the other would attempt to match it, bodies grinding together and still kissing slowly even as the tempo picks up.

Marcus slips his free hand behind Six, gripping under the buttocks and squeezing his ass firmly. It is Six’s turn to groan, rubbing their cocks together so that the tender skin under the shaft grazes, and he kisses Marcus hungrily until breathing becomes too hard, and they are both panting, breath for breath, as their excitement builds.

Finally, with a long moan and a tightening of his balls as Six’s warning, Marcus climaxes first, a sticky stream of come spattering against his lover’s belly. Six follows closely, their sweat and fluids mingling together before they give each other one more long kiss.

Eventually, they break apart, but the moment is no less tender for that. Using a spare towel to dab at the semen coating their bellies, they end up lying next together on the giant bed, with Six’s head pillowed against Marcus’ shoulder. Breathing contentedly, Marcus asks,

“So… the _first_ date, hm?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six fends off ladies and Marcus introduces him to anal.

She’s cute, her face all bright and shiny like a cap just pried off the bottle. Sweet face, earnest, just the faintest trace of baby fat still left on the edges—she’s obviously been well-loved all her life, a rarity in the Mojave Wasteland.

Unfortunately for her, someone else will have to love her.

“I am real flattered, sweetheart. But I’ve got a wife and kids out in California. It might get lonely, but I’ll never be lonely enough to leave her for a pretty little girl like you.” His eyes are soft and genuine, meeting her gaze firmly to let her know this old man isn’t just brushing her off.

It’s true, every word. And she melts like butter, sighing. “Okay then. You’re… you’re real sweet, Mr Six. Your wife’s awful lucky to have you.” She turns away and goes back to the caravan, rejoining the other traders. Rebuffed but not bitter

A shadow falls across Six’s face, and he turns to see Marcus standing by. The super mutant stays quiet alongside the retired courier, watching the caravan leave. Only when they are completely out of sight, bending around the road away from Jacobstown, does he speak.

“Are you ashamed of me?” he asks in a bass rumble, breath fogging in the clear mountain air. His eyes are distant, focused on the tree-line.

Quizzically, Six turns to face him. “Why the hell would you think that?” He scratches one hand at the stubble on his cheek, reflecting he needs to either shave or admit he’s growing an actual beard.

“When you refused that young woman, you only mentioned your wife.” The green man is too stoic to actually sound hurt, but Six recognizes the tension in his shoulders, and slaps his own forehead with a groan.

“Aw, shit. Look, Marcus, I just asked the caravan leader to drop off a letter to _my wife_ at the nearest Express outpost. So it was the first excuse that came up.” Rubbing his temples, he adds, “Plus, she’s just a kid. Less’n half my age. I wanted to let her down easy.”

Marcus grunts, not completely satisfied with that response. “I was unsure if you were ashamed of preferring men, or of me.”

Six sucks his teeth with a sharp inhale, narrowing his eyes. “Neither, all right? What’s gotten into you anyways, old man?” The usual teasing endearment falls flat and spiteful as he flexes his fingers, abruptly feeling the weight of the years on his frail human frame.

Marcus must be feeling it too, shoulders slumping as he leans closer to the aging courier. Not for the first time, Six wonders what is must be like to see one’s fragile human companions wither away, like a flower that blooms for only a season. Their foreheads brush whisper-light before the super mutant straightens.

“Just wondering if you lost interest. We haven’t had a second ‘date’ yet.”

Six gives a startled laugh, swatting Marcus’ shoulder. “What, a couple of friendly handjobs not cutting it?” he chuckles, already feeling his mood lighten.

Grinning, Marcus retorts, “Hoping for more than ‘friendly.’ And more than hands.” Six makes a rude noise, and Marcus cannot maintain his aggrieved façade any longer, his chuckles mingling with Six’s.

When the mirth dies down, Marcus quietly asks, “So what are we? Friends? Fuckbuddies?”

“Never called it anything other’n friends before,” Six admits. “Maybe a ‘special friend,’ or a partner, but it was never real important. I never stayed anywhere more’n a couple of weeks. And saying ‘boyfriend’ just sounds so…” His nose wrinkles in distaste as he rolls his tongue around the world.

“Young?” Marcus suggests.

Six shrugs helplessly, neither confirming nor denying the description. “Does it matter?”

“Only as long as you’re not just some human with a super mutant fetish.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Six pauses before commenting, “Sounds like you been talking with Keene.”

Marcus shrugs, resting a hand on Six’s arm. The courier reaches up to cover his hand with his palm, squeezing lightly. “I do talk with Keene,” Marcus says quietly. “Hard not to. We both lead this place, and even with a nightkin cure on the horizon… he gets frustrated.”

“Well, that ain’t my dog,” Six snorts, watching Rex run circles around a bighorner. The cyborg dog wags his tail happily as Lily bends down to pat his head. “ _My_ dog got sense enough to leave me alone for the shit I can’t control.”

“You must understand, Keene is clever. Charismatic. His sway over the nightkin members of this community is not to be underestimated. And he does not like humans.” It sounds like weary restatement of fact rather than a warning, but Six bristles anyway.

“Well, yeah. Obviously his hold is _real_ strong over Lily there.” He holds up a halting hand at Marcus’ narrowing eyes, overriding the green man’s objection. “Look, I know he’s a scary fucker. So I stay out of his way. Can’t blame _me_ if he just gets a mad-on for the fact that I’m a human living in this snowy patch of paradise.” A thought crosses his mind, and he crosses his arms. “Hey, you two ever sleep together?”

“Irrelevant,” is Marcus’ immediate response, cueing a crow of victory from Six.

“I _knew_ it! Jealous ex trying to rile you up!” Six laughs with mouth wide, hearty guffaws spilling out infectiously as he slaps his thigh. Humor at the very-human foibles of the meta human community trumps, at least temporarily, any concerns over an angry eight-foot tall shadow-man beating him to a pulp.

Even Marcus can’t restrain a crooked grin. “Damn, but you make it sound so tawdry. But we never…” He shrugs, sending his orange shoulder-pad bobbing. “We were partners. Couldn’t get anything to work in bed though.”

“Now who’s just some super mutant with a human fetish?” Six asks with a shit-eating grin.

Marcus snorts, but squeezes a possessive arm about Six’s shoulders anyway. “Nothing like that. Just didn’t have the right chemistry, I guess. You’d think crazy-angry would be great in the sack, but it completely kills the mood.”

“Damn. So much for my plans to go all berserk on your ass,” the courier snickers, tugging Marcus’ arm and pulling him down for a kiss. Their lips meet, and he tilts his head to the side so that his beard brushes against Marcus’ skin as his mouth parts. Marcus’ tongue thrusts in and Six sucks gently, giving a light nip when Marcus gets a little too forceful. “Back off there, big man. Don’t want to choke me.”

“Other things I’d rather choke you with,” the super mutant murmurs, pressing his lips to Six’s forehead.

“Better not be hoping for any Reno-style deep-throating. Your cock’s too big for that.” When Marcus grins, Six just stabs him in the chest with one finger. “Why the hell are you looking so proud? Not like you can take credit for it.”

“I can still take credit for using it.” Marcus’ smile is wide and beatific.

“Pride goes before a fall, old man!” Six doesn’t even wait to finish his sentence before hooking one foot behind Marcus’ ankle, shoving hard and sending the mutant sprawling. Bellowing and shedding snow, Marcus launches back on his feet in pursuit of the lanky courier. While Marcus is faster on a straight run, Six weaves between buildings and trees, circling back on his tracks and around corners to pelt his friend with snowballs.

“You want to play this game?” Marcus roars, making even the placid bighorners look up in surprise. “ _Come and get it!”_

When Six next pops around a building, snowball in hand, he blanches and immediately backpedals. Alas, not in time before Marcus simply flings his armful of snow—not even bothering to aim, counting on sheer mass to do the job for him—at him. The human promptly finds himself knocked to the ground, half-buried in icy white. His hat tumbles next to him.

Crouching over his fallen opponent, legs straddling Six’s thighs and with one hand pressed into his chest, driving him deeper into the ground, Marcus growls, “Yield?” His hot breath rasps against Six’s scalp.

“Fuck no.” Six juts his chin defiantly.

Marcus twists his other hand into Six’s hair, leaning in to ravage his neck with lips and teeth. Six tastes sweat and gunpowder, mixed with the faintest trace of soap and whiskey-sour tang. His captive lets a low moan, bucking his hips upward and letting Marcus feel the bulge of his cock swelling against his leg. Marcus responds by sucking gently on the tender skin below the ear, nuzzling. There is still struggle; Six’s pride won’t let him go down without a fight, so he twists beneath Marcus, using his hands to attempt to gain leverage and squirm free. But his poor position and Marcus’ size put him at a disadvantage, the super mutant easily overpowering him.

“So… second date? Your mouth, my cock?” Marcus chuckles, voice soft in Six’s ear.

Before Six can respond, an unpleasantly familiar snarl interrupts. “If you are done playing, there is a mercenary by the gate. Wants to ‘recruit’ us,” Keene spits, ‘recruit’ sounding synonymous with ‘enslave’ in his vocabulary. “I told her to leave us be, but she insists on speaking to you.”

Well, shit. Keene’s presence works better than a cold shower, and Marcus embarrassedly rolls off Six.

“I’ll go meet her. What company does she represent?” Marcus adjusts his limited clothing while speaking, brushing snow off his arms and legs.

“Sana’s Strikers,” Keene answers, watching the still-sprawled Six with narrowed eyes.

Six gets up slowly, stamping to shake the snow off him and trying not to feel like an idiot teenager caught making out in the barn. They might’ve been caught, but _dammit_ , he and Marcus are both grown men and if they want to get a little handsy, who’s to stop them?

Well, other than possibly psychotic angry exes.

“Never heard of ‘em. New outfit, maybe? Sounds like a vanity name. Want to bet the woman’s Sana herself?” Six grunts, trying to inconspicuously ensure that Marcus remains between him and Keene.

Marcus declines. “No bet.”

Lacking anything better to do, Six trails after Marcus, looping his thumbs through his belt and trying to ignore Keene’s burning glare in the back of his head.

Six immediately recognizes the woman and her trio of mercenaries—not by face, but by type. Weathered but not beaten, with callused hands and wary eyes. He’s traveled with others like them, interchangeable through the haze of years and miles. Hell, he’s _been_ one of them, working as a caravan guard when there was nothing to deliver for the Mojave Express. None of them are small, but the rangy Six still towers over the tallest of them, just as the super mutants tower over Six.

Their leader is a sharp-faced woman with almond eyes and hair cut to just below her ears. Her manner is severe, but softens just slightly as she spots Six. He immediately tries to match her against a memory, any memory, and ransacks his mental files while she speaks with Marcus.

It’s nothing Six hasn’t heard before, so he tunes it out. He does note that her name is Sana—so score one for him, even if Marcus didn’t take the bet—and she wants to recruit meta humans to bolster her mercenary company. They’re strong, they heal quickly, they have combat experience, Sana would pay any recruits generously, etc. The usual recruiting spiel on why she wants the mutants and the compensation they would receive.

Marcus gives her the usual response in turn. Jacobstown was meant as a haven for the super mutants and nightkin, a place to retreat and be among others of their kind. Not as a recruiting hub, especially since so many of them are done fighting under another’s banner.

Six’s attention snaps back to the conversation as Sana gestures towards him. “Many, but not all. I have seen Courier Six during the Battle of Hoover Dam, and one of his allies was a nightkin. Very impressive. Even if no other meta humans wish to join, perhaps she—“

The retired courier butts in before Marcus can even open his mouth. “You leave Lily the fuck alone,” he growls, knuckles itching as he fights the urge to form a fist. Sana blinks, taken back by his outburst, and he presses on while she’s still in shock. “She’s a damn good fighter, yeah, but she’s gotten too old for that shit.” Nothing that Lily can’t say for herself, but the idea of the kindly demented grandmother wandering the Wasteland with another ragtag group… even recognizing the hypocrisy, he wants to protect her.

Sana swallows, tongue darting out just briefly as she reconsiders her approach. “I apologize then. May I at least speak with the inhabitants for myself?”

“Visitors are always welcome,” Marcus rumbles. “But do remember some of us can get irritated if you get pushy. Particularly the nightkin.”

“We will be respectful,” Sana agrees, dipping her head in acknowledgment.

Marcus grunts acceptance, turning back to the town. Probably to drop some gentle warnings with Keene. Six starts to follow, but Sana calls to him.

“So this is where the famous Courier Six retired?” she asks, jogging to catch up as her followers disperse on their recruiting efforts.

“Dunno about the ‘famous’ Courier Six, but this is where I’ve chosen to rest these old bones,” he replies, adjusting his hat.

“Why here? Why not New Vegas, with all the lights and the people who love you?” she asks. It seems a genuine question, asked with sincerity and confusion rather than the usual star-gawking.

He pauses, trying to think of a response that won’t sound too trite. “Got tired of the lights. Just wanted somewhere quiet and easy, where I can do just enough work to keep from feeling like a doddery old wreck and spend the rest of the day drinking and chatting. Plus the company’s good,” he admits, permitting his gaze to drift after Marcus.

“Don’t you ever miss human companionship?”

He glares at her, this time unable to resist curling his hands into fists. “’Human’ means decent people, in my book. ‘Meta human’ is still human. And more human than the Legion, Fiends, or gangs I’ve had to shoot down.” His eyes narrow, glinting dark and dangerous. “And if you’re looking to recruit, you sure won’t get any sign-ons with that attitude,” he adds bitingly.

Sana blinks, cheeks turning mottled red as she realizes just how badly she misspoke. “Not what I meant! I mean, a man has needs…”

“My needs ain’t your business,” he says firmly. “And you ain’t my type anyway.”  His drawl is getting smokier and more pronounced, agitation bringing out the accent of his youth. He might gently brush off a young girl full of starry-eyed hero worship, but for someone who ought to know better, only some residual sense of chivalry keeps him adding a ‘fuck off.’

She still catches the unsaid thought and backs away, leaving Six to stew in his foul mood.

 

As expected, Sana’s Strikers fail to interest any of the super mutants or nightkin living in Jacobstown. They leave in less than an hour, disappointed.

Six finds himself back at the lodge, alternating between shots of whiskey and sips of Sunset Sarsaparilla. When Marcus comes in, Six beckons to him with a crooked finger, bringing the super mutant close.

“Ha. Made you come with just one finger,” the ex-courier snickers, pushing the bottle and a shotglass towards Marcus. “Imagine what I can do with my whole hand.”

“Dammit, what will I do with you?” Marcus asks, equal parts exasperated and amused. “That joke was old even _before_ I got put in the dip.”

“Teach me new jokes?” Six suggests. “Or go to bed? If we drink together, this counts as a second date, right?”

Marcus takes a swig, drinking directly from the bottle, and follows with the rest of Six’s sarsaparilla. “You might need to sober up. Being drunk inhibits your game.”

“That was just the _one_ time…” Six complains, only to be hushed by a firm green finger laid over his lips.

“Let’s get some water and a checkers set. I’ll know you’re sober enough for sex when you can beat me.”

Six grumbles, “Not fair. I’m too old for a nanny.”

Snickering, Marcus replies, “And you’re too old to use ‘not fair’ as your first argument. Sober up. Besides,” he adds, leaning in to lay a peck against Six’s whiskers, “I want to get more than just your mouth and hands tonight.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, _I’ll_ be fucking _you_ ,” Marcus snorts. He sets a bottle of purified water on the table and starts setting up for checkers. The board is more than a little beat up, with scratches marring the surface and a corner broken off, but it’s still perfectly serviceable. A few of the pieces are missing, but have been substituted with black and white stones or buttons. Six automatically reaches for one dark stone and a black button to replace his missing checkers, while Marcus fills in the gaps in his ranks with the white stones.

“Fucking’s a _team_ sport, not a ‘I’m fucking you, you’re getting fucked,’ sort of game,” Six mutters, waiting for Marcus to make his move. Once Marcus slides his piece out, Six immediately takes his turn.

“It’s all semantics,” Marcus says amiably, stone thumping against the board.

Six quickly loses the first game, but after guzzling half the bottle of water and glaring at Marcus, he starts taking his moves more seriously. Marcus still wins the second game, but the tide turns during the third game as finally Six’s sheer orneriness pushes him to victory.

“Fuck _yeah_. Now we’re fucking, old man!” the graying courier crows, pumping his fists in the air. He impulsively lays a wet kiss on Marcus, biting his lower lip and mock-growling into the mutant’s mouth before straightening up and clearing the board. Marcus assists with putting the game away, only chuckling at his lover’s enthusiasm.

Six and Marcus retreat to Marcus’ room, though Six pushes Marcus against the wall just outside, grinding against his thigh until Marcus grunts, “Enough. Unless you want me to take you here.”

Laughing, Six tugs Marcus through the doorway, kicking it shut behind them.

Sober enough to stay hard, but with just enough lingering alcoholic haze to lend urgency to every movement, Six hungrily strips Marcus down. Belts and metal go flying, thumping into the wall and sliding down into a growing pile of discarded clothing. Marcus even removes his goggles, though careful to set them aside on a table while Six wraps his fist around Marcus’ cock, stroking up and down in a frenzy as he bites Marcus’ chest.

Hissing through his teeth, Marcus pushes him back. “Get naked. I’ve had enough of your handjobs, and want more.”

“Just foreplay, old man,” Six retorts, pulling his shirt off with one hand. Marcus nuzzles into Six’s chest, salt and pepper hairs tickling his nostrils as he breathes deeply. His tongue flicks over Six’s nipple, prompting a low moan, so he circles back insistently, tracing wet lines of saliva before blowing cool air against Six’s skin. The human shivers, hands shaking as he loosens his belt and drops his trousers. His erection bulges beneath the thin fabric of his boxers, and finally springs free as Marcus impatiently yanks them down.

Naked and standing, they wrap their arms around each other, tangled like vines as they kiss, lick, and nibble any flesh within reach. Six bites the fleshy meat of Marcus’ bicep, while Marcus squeezes his hand against the back of Six’s neck and nuzzles his hair. Marcus falls back on the bed first, Six crawling between his legs and nipping a lazy path down the line of Marcus’ chest, teeth pinching skin over the belly before drifting down.

“Dammit, I said I wanted your _mouth_ , not your teeth,” Marcus complains, raising his leg over Six’s shoulder as the courier shifts into position.

“So fucking impatient. What happened to patience in maturity?” Six taunts, running his tongue over the sensitive head of Marcus’ cock. The man groans in frustration, a salty drop of precum already oozing from the tip.

Grunting, lifting his hips and bracing himself against Six’s shoulders, Marcus replies, “Ran out the door when a certain _whelp_ would only _tease_ , not please.”

“Fuck you too, then,” Six growls, but he still laps at Marcus’ moisture. Licking his lips, he wraps his mouth around Marcus’ cock, running both hands up and down the thick green shaft. He swirls his tongue while sucking, saliva leaking down and providing lubrication for the busy handjob as he bobs his head, breathing deeply through his nose. Marcus’ cock is too big to easily fit, but Six does his best, inhaling the super mutant’s scent of musk and pine. Mouth full, Six just moans his appreciation in the back of his throat as one hand slips down, squeezing Marcus’ testicles.

Marcus gives an audible gasp, warning, “Gentle down there!” as Six snickers, backing his mouth off Marcus’ cock and giving a sloppy kiss to the man’s balls.

Shifting his weight, Marcus places a hand over Six’s, slapping his cock against the younger man’s cheek. “Damn kid. Stop getting distracted.”

Six flashes a grin, kissing Marcus’ penis before sucking again. He leans into it now, hands twisting as they twine up and down the meaty shaft, mimicking his tongue as impossibly, Marcus swells even more inside Six’s mouth. His cheeks bulge until, coughing, the courier is forced to spit it out.

“Sorry, Marcus. You’re just too big for me,” he says apologetically.

Marcus chuckles, low and deep. “Thought it might happen. So got a little something from the last caravan…” He lifts his legs from Six’s shoulders, elbow-crawling his way back on the bed and reaching to the nightstand. There is a bottle of glistening liquid, a faintly sweet smell filling the air as Marcus opens it.

“Oil?” Six asks, more for confirmation than anything else. At Marcus’ nod, he groans. “You can’t even fit my mouth, and you want anal? I don’t reckon this will end too well. I don’t mind just handjobs…”

“We can make it work,” the super mutant insists.

“This is just some macho bullshit about fitting your dick in the smallest hole available,” Six complains, rubbing his thumb along the thick vein pulsing beneath Marcus’ shaft. “I’ve tried bottoming before. Topping too, but never did anything for me.”

“Try it?” Marcus asks. “I’ll trade you for two filthy favors if you just try,” he adds coaxingly.

Six squares his shoulders back, unable to resist crinkling his eyes. “Two filthy favors of my choice? Dangerous game, old man.”

“I’ll be gentle.”

“So said the rake to the virgin.”

“Why the hell would she shove a rake up there?”

“Wrong kind of rake,” the courier says dismissively. “I’ll give it a try, but _I’m_ going on top. You’d crush me.”

“Fair enough,” Marcus agrees, squeezing his hands under Six’s ass and pulling him around. Six spreads his legs, bending over and straddling Marcus’ face so his dick bobs against the mutant’s chin. Taking the bottle, Marcus pours a generous amount over his fingers, smearing gently against the tight ring of Six’s ass. Licking the smaller man’s cock, Marcus starts lightly sucking as he presses one finger to his puckered anus.

“Careful there,” Six groans, leaning his cheek into Marcus’ belly. His breath tickles against the skin, beard tickling as he nuzzles in.

Marcus’ promise is muffled as he continues sucking Six’s cock, continuing to press gently against Six’s asshole with the pad of his finger. Gently rocking back and forth, Six sighs as his sphincter slowly dilates, permitting entry for Marcus’ well-oiled finger. Marcus is patient, not so much thrusting as gently throbbing his digit back and forth, continuing to suck at the base of Six’s cock and licking his balls. Six groans, pitch rising as he feels Marcus move deeper, hooking his fingers down and stroking against his prostate.

“How is that?” Marcus asks, panting against Six’s scrotum as he nudges another finger against the man’s ass.

Squirming back and biting his lip, it takes a few moments for Six to respond. “Good. Better than what I’ve tried before, at least.”

“Good start, then,” Marcus murmurs, slowly wriggling the second finger in as Six pushes back against his hand. The man’s baritone gasp is satisfying, but not as much as the feel of his tight ass wrapped around Marcus’ two fingers. Again, he must move slowly, taking less than an inch at a time before pressing his knuckles flat against Six’s ass, his two fingers squirming inside the moaning courier. Backing out, he continues leisurely thrusting, working his fingers back and forth while he laps at Six’s balls, the fine hair on his testicles tickling his tongue.

When Marcus finally tries adding a third finger, Six practically thrusts himself back onto the lubed appendage, moaning as his asshole stretches to accommodate.

“Someone’s a size queen,” Marcus laughs, his breath hot and warm against the courier’s belly as Six can barely restrain another embarrassing cry. “Maybe you just never liked anal because you never did it with a super mutant.”

“Fuck that noise,” Six groans, bearing down on Marcus’ fingers and grinding his ass against the man’s hand. “Watch your sass, old man. You still owe me two filthy favors after this.”

“Watch your _ass_ ,” the mutant chuckles crudely. “Tell me when you want my cock in you.”

They continue for a few more minutes, Six groaning as Marcus finger-fucks him, cock bouncing against Marcus’ lips and tongue while the mutant continues pleasuring him. Six starts sucking at the tip of Marcus’ cock, squeezing and stroking him in turn as their bodies grind together. Finally, cheeks flushed and feeling his asshole slick and glistening from lube, he declares, “I’m ready. But I’m still on top, alright? So lube me up.”

Marcus murmurs agreement, pulling his fingers out and recoating them with a generous splash of oil. His fingers work skillfully about the rim of Six’s anus, pushing and probing and working more of the precious oil inside. When he finally judges there to be enough (and Six can almost feel himself dripping lube, the sensation a strange and heady precursor to the idea of having Marcus’ cum inside him), he pats Six’s ass, prompting the courier to change positions as Marcus pours more oil on his big green dick.

Facing Marcus with his legs spread wide, Six slowly lowers himself on Marcus’ erection. Even warm and oiled, it is a difficult fit as Six bites his lip, feeling the meaty tip pressing insistently against his ass. Gently rocking up and down, he finally permits himself to sit as he feels his asshole relax to accommodate the massive cock. Still biting his lip, he moves down slowly, feeling Marcus’ hand warm against his thigh as the mutant starts squeezing his erection, sliding up and down as if urging Six to move.

“Calm down, old man,” Six grunts, feeling himself slide until his buttocks rest against Marcus’ thighs. “Filled me up. Just let me relax and enjoy it for a bit.” If someone had asked him just an hour ago if he ever thought he could handle receiving anal from a super mutant, he would have laughed in their face before punching them out for getting too personal. But now… fuck, it feels good. He feels stretched, but deliciously so, warm and so tightly wrapped around Marcus’ cock it’s like he can feel his pulse echoing through his rectum. Every small motion feels amplified, heightened by the sweet tension of being so completely filled.

Coupled with Marcus’ busy hand on his cock, it feels so good he can’t help rocking back and forth, using his thighs for leverage as Marcus starts gently thrusting. He arches his back with a sigh, gratified to see Marcus eyeing the swell of his chest with pleasure. Tilting just slightly to the side, he grabs his hat and plops it back on his head with a smirk.

“How do you like getting ridden, old man?” he asks.

“Fucking fantastic,” Marcus grunts. “You’re so tight, but your ass feels like it’s trying to suck me in,” he adds, pulling his hips back. Six bears down, grinding against Marcus’ groin and moaning as he puts his hand over Marcus’ hand, guiding him in the motions that he likes. It feels almost like performing a dirty peep show, watching Marcus watch him stroke his cock while sitting on Marcus’ dick. Deliberately, he flexes, bringing out the corded muscle of his shoulders and biceps. Marcus raises his free hand, tracing his finger along the curve of Six’s chest and leaving a light trail of glistening oil. Slowly, he rubs his thumb into Six’s flesh, massaging the oil into the younger man’s skin.

Six enjoys the appreciation, rolling his shoulders back and sighing as he continues using Marcus’ cock to fuck his ass. The touching and stroking combined with the oily slap of Marcus’ balls against Six’s ass prompting another low moan as he groans, “Sorry, Marcus. Can’t hold out much fucking longer…”

Marcus laughs, slapping the massaging hand against Six’s buttock. “Then don’t.”

With a strangled cry of release, Six spills his semen over Marcus’ chest and belly in creamy spurts. At the same time, he feels a hot, sticky rush inside his ass, cum mingling with lube to make him feel like a greasy, sloppy mess as Marcus withdraws his dick with a wet squelch. He shivers, feeling his gaping asshole pulse, more oil and sperm dripping out onto Marcus’ cock as he rolls to the side, using Marcus’ arm as a pillow.

They linger in long silence, breathing slowly as the ragged edge of orgasm fades.

“That was great,” Six says at last, staring at the ceiling.

“It was,” Marcus agrees, closing his eyes. “Definitely do again?”

Six grins, teeth flashing in the shadows. “Yeah. But you still owe me two filthy favors.”


End file.
